Wilted Rose
by Debochira
Summary: "Even you must know," she took a deep breath and held her hands to her chest. "Even the most well-tended rose wilts with time."


It was a quiet night in Gotham City, which set the Dark Knight on edge. Nights were _never _quiet, tame, or any synonym of those words, unless Batman was out cold due to a heavy strike to his head or fighting off toxic gases. The League gave him no reports of a coming Armageddon, not even Nightwing was having trouble in Blüdhaven. He swung daringly over an apartment building, taking note of the familiar scent of roses and lavender perfume.

_Poison Ivy._

Batman almost smiled at the prospect of stopping the criminal and arresting her, but he then remembered that she was released from Arkham Asylum just four months ago. So far, she was quiet as a mouse, a description that certainly did not usually apply to the supposedly reformed eco-terrorist. Even Harley Quinn admitted to not having heard from her since the asylum. The vigilante grappled down and landed swiftly in front of a public greenhouse Bruce Wayne had commissioned a little over two months ago.

The scent of her perfume was much stronger now, confirming Batman's suspicions on her whereabouts. He decided to take the practical, if not a tad boring, route and opened the fiberglass door, and was instantly bathed in the aromas and fragrances of the plantlife inside. The Dark Knight stepped inside and felt the heat cling to him, offering a welcome reprieve from the winter chill outside.

Batman analyzed the plants around him and concluded that they were beautiful but harmless. It seemed Poison Ivy was keeping to her word after all. Said ex-criminal was sitting on a stool at the back, trimming a peculiar flower Batman had never seen before. Its stem and leaves were navy blue and the flower petals were yellow dotted with black spots that looked almost like…bats?

"Ivy." He made sure to sound intimidating, even though the rogue was not dressed in her usual attire of a one-piece jade leotard with matching boots and gloves. Instead, she was wearing a loose green sweater, gardening gloves, and baggy coveralls that were stained from the knees down with soil and spent trimmings. Her fiery red hair was tied back in a ponytail, while her cheeks were smudged with grime.

She turned and smiled at Batman, but he noticed that it was a warm, almost friendly smile instead of her patented seductive leer. "Batman," her voice was soft and the slight tremble in it did not go unnoticed. "I wasn't expecting you; I would have made something for you to eat."

"I'll get drive-through."

Poison Ivy nodded, though her eyes were faded and tired. Batman credited that to her late-night romp in the green. She glanced at the plant she was tending to and gestured to it. "What do you think?"

Batman stepped closer and discovered the leaves were shaped suspiciously similar to his own batarangs. "It's… new. What species is it?"

"A new breed, I've been working on it for the past three months." She smiled proudly at it and patted the stool beside her own. When Batman remained where he was, her smile dropped almost unnoticeably, but she held up a tag attached to the pot. "Nocte Vigilem."

Beneath his cowl, an eyebrow rose up. "Night Watcher?"

Ivy's head bobbed slightly as she stood and smiled even wider while still maintaining a friendly air. "It's a gift."

"Forgive me, Ivy, but I'm not partial to gifts from former criminals."

Poison Ivy sighed and nodded. "I understand, but I do ask that you call me Pam." She took a step forward, taking note of the sudden tension in the Bat's shoulders and jaw. She stopped and held her hands together. "You can keep the plant in a glass case. It thrives in darkness," she smiled knowingly at him, "and it needs water every two or three days."

"Ivy… Pamela, I can't take it. I'm too busy to tend to a plant," he took pity on her slightly sunken shoulders and added, "Even one as lovely as that."

Pamela's head was lowered but she gazed up from under her eyebrows and said, "You can have Alfred tend to it."

The only change in the Bat's outward appearance was the clenched jaw. "I don't know an Alfred—"

"Bruce, just stop," Pam interrupted. The look in her eyes was pleading, not at all like the demands she used to make when she held Batman's life in her hands.

"… How and when?"

Pam sighed and lowered her eyes to his boots. "Batman and Bruce Wayne have the same jaw, the same height, similar voice, even the same teeth. It was only a matter of time before I put two and two together, which was at this greenhouse's grand opening." She smiled kindly at him and bit her lip. "Thank you for this, by the way. I wouldn't have lasted this long without it."

Batman was tempted to pull back his cowl, but years of training and experience warned him not to. "Who have you told?"

Pam clenched her jaw and crossed her arms. "No one."

"Why?" It sounded more like a demand than a question.

The former criminal sank down on the stool nearest to her and dared to look Batman in the eye. "I hated Batman for always stopping me from trying to help Mother Nature. He infuriated me, made me want to rip my hair out at how stubborn he was. But Bruce Wayne…" she smiled again, this time with an appreciation and gratitude that Bruce never expected to see on her face. "Bruce, even before Poison Ivy, has fought to protect the environment. He's funded greenhouses across the country, protected nature preserves around Gotham, even planted a few trees himself in Robinson Park. For that, I respect him more than I hated Batman."

Batman's brow lifted once again as he said, "You keep referring to your dislike of Batman in past tense."

"Bruce, after I found out the two of you were one and the same, I couldn't bring myself to loathe Batman, because I know that under that mask is the man who made my dream a reality in more ways than I ever could." She turned wistfully to the Nocte Vigilem and stroked one of the petals. "I was going to drop this off on your doorstep in an hour or so, but here you are. I probably wouldn't have made it past the gate anyway."

While her attention was on the plant, Batman took the time to more closely inspect her. Her skin seemed abnormally pale, almost chalk white, while her gloved hands shook almost imperceptibly. "Something's wrong, Pam."

She faced him and smiled sadly, her eyes even more faded than before. She removed her gloves and held her hands out. They were gnarled and mottled to a yellow-grey, almost like… a wilting plant.

"Bruce, even you must know," she took a deep breath and held her hands to her chest. "Even the most well-tended rose wilts with time."

"I know a doctor who can look—"

"No."

"If she can look at your genetic material, she can—"

"No."

"If I can help you in anyway, I will."

Pam stood up and slowly made her way to the Bat. She rested her hands on his broad shoulders and smiled up at him. "You can't help."

"You can't give up so easily."

"I only have two or three more hours at the most, Bruce. I couldn't fight it if I tried. You know as well as I that we organic beings are destined to end in time. Mine just happens to be sooner than others." Her voice rang with a note of finality that made Batman pause.

"…What happened?"

Pam lowered her head. "During my last stay in the asylum, I felt weaker and less in control of myself. Quakes and shivers plagued my every movement, and when I asked the doctors for a checkup, I found out that my cells were collapsing on themselves. A progressive blood cancer, they said." A tear rolled down her pale cheek, but Batman's black glove wiped it away. "I wanted to go out with a bang, a grand scheme that would cover Gotham in enough plantlife to restore the Amazon, but after several more weeks of pain and depression, I realized just how far my dream of restoring Mother Nature came; almost nothing. Virtually nothing I have ever done has made an impact on the environment. That is my one regret, Bruce," she wiped another tear off her cheek and looked him in the eye. "I failed to help the world. I only wanted to preserve nature, to give it life, but in the end, I failed."

"Pam—"

"But then I remembered Bruce Wayne's contributions. He was the only person that gave more than I, and I knew he deserved a gift, something special, for his service. When I discovered your dual life, it made my gift that much more meaningful, not to mention easier to design." Pamela stepped away and gestured to her gift. "A nocturnal plant for a nocturnal protector. It's nontoxic, and can be used in tea as a mild healing agent, which I know for a fact you need on occasion."

Before either could say anymore, Pam's knees gave out and she fell into Batman's instantly outstretched arms. Her eyelids fluttered slightly before she regained herself. "I'm taking you to a hospital," said Batman.

Pam squeezed her eyes shut and snuggled into the Dark Knight's arms. "You know it won't do any good."

"I have to try—"

"Shh," Pam whispered, pressing her fingers to Bruce's lip. "It's okay. Death is just another part of life. Though," she bit her lip and shied her eyes away from his. "I would like to go to Robinson Park, just one more time."

In just under an hour, Batman had called the Batmobile, packed the Nocte Vigilem in the backseat, taken Pamela to Robinson Park, and programmed the car to go straight to the Batcave, with instructions to Alfred for the plant's proper care.

Pam stood in the center of her former lair, taking in the sight of her plants still just as strong and healthy as ever. She hugged herself and felt no shame at the tears on her cheeks. She was simply watering her babies, nothing wrong with that. Her limbs felt heavy and her lungs hurt from breathing, but she was at peace. She knew Bruce would continue to help the environment, in his own way, and she could never thank him enough for it.

Pam turned to face Batman, her fingers shaking from something other than the disease that was killing her bit by bit. "Bruce," she whispered. He was there in an instant, standing by her side. She wanted to say something but the lump in her throat wouldn't let her. Swallowing it down, Pam rested her hand on his bicep. "I know you don't usually do this sort of thing, but…" She fell to her knees, Bruce quickly following to catch her. "Will you stay with me? Until I…"

Bruce faced away from her and slowly, cautiously pulled back his cowl. Baby blue eyes met her faded jade as he nodded to her.

"I'm scared, Bruce," she whispered, her hands gripping his arm more tightly. Without any further instruction, Bruce held her close to his chest and wrapped his cape around the two of them.

"I'm here," he said. He swallowed back the lump in his throat as he recalled holding his own mother all those years ago. Bruce did not want to be this close to death again, but Batman knew it was where he was needed, whether he liked it or not.

Pamela looked up and smiled warmly at him before pressing her cold lips against his cheek. "You should shave soon," she joked. "Stubble is sexy but unbecoming of Gotham's savior."

Bruce allowed himself a small smile at her humor. She smiled back but quickly gasped, as though she could not breathe. Her eyes widened in fear but Bruce held her closer, keeping her warm in her final moments. He felt her hands rest around his waist and fought the urge to keep them away from his utility belt. He felt her pulse flicker between fast and slow, before it finally settled on barely there.

"Goodbye, Bruce," Pamela Isley said. Her eyes smoothly closed as she went into blissful eternal sleep, a small smile stuck on her pale red lips. Pamela Lillian Isley, known to many as Poison Ivy, was gone.

Bruce petted her hair and kissed her forehead, taking in the sweet scent of her perfume for the final time. He never considered her romantically, what with her pheromone powers and Selina and Talia already on his mind, but for the first, and only, time, he thought about the path not taken, how he could have changed her from the beginning. It was a brief thought, but it meant more to him than he wanted to acknowledge.

Without a moment's pause, Batman pulled his cowl back over his face and carried Pam all the way back to Wayne Manor.

In the morning, Bruce Wayne made a public announcement that Pamela had passed away during the night, and he was going to arrange her funeral that very evening, with a special grave in Robinson Park, the place that only he knew was her deathbed. More people showed up than he expected, but they explained that Pamela was a good friend, once they gave her the chance. He immediately recognized Selina standing beside Harley Quinn, whom he arranged to be present in a straitjacket and two armed guards.

Selina was quiet, but the stains on her cheeks told Bruce all he needed to know about how she was feeling. Harley, on the other hand, was bawling her sky blue eyes out, trying to wiggle out of the jacket so she could cover her face or hug Selina, or both. With a nod from Bruce, the two guards removed the jacket, and Harley was instantly clinging to Selina, her loud sobbing reduced to hysteric gulps of air and whimpers.

Once Pamela was placed in her grave, coffinless so she could be that much closer to the nature she loved so much, there were several eulogies, including Harley's half-incoherent babbling. Bruce placed a fresh red rose on the head of Pam's grave, with Selina dropping a lilac and Harley providing a full bouquet which drew curious looks from nearly everyone there.

Bruce sat in the back of his limo, with Alfred and Damian at the front, and Barbara and Tim seated across from Bruce himself. He held his chin and gazed at the passing vegetation, catching glances at pretty flowers every once in a while.

"Bruce," said Barbara. He turned to her and took note of her tearstained cheeks. He was surprised to see she cared so much. "How are you?"

Bruce thought of many answers for that question, but decided to simply continue watching the outside world pass him by.

**Pamela Lillian Isley**

'**Poison Ivy'**

**1975 – 2013**

**Even the most beautiful rose wilts**


End file.
